


It's Okay to Cry in Georgia

by AvenuePotter



Series: Fathers [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Gen, Rollisi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvenuePotter/pseuds/AvenuePotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sequel Fic to Fathers. Thanks to katben08 for the beta!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Sonny Carisi hangs up the phone. Nicky’s teacher had called again and she is requesting a parent-teacher conference with both him and the parents of the boy who had beat up his son at pre-school. Again.

“Nicky!” Sonny yells up the staircase.

“My name is Dominick,” his son argues and smiles down at him from the landing.

“Not until you earn it.” Sonny retorts. It was their little game. His son had found out his full name recently and had begun insisting that everyone call him by it. But Nicky was the nickname he had been stuck with since before he started talking. It was hard to change habits. “Come down here, little buddy. We need have to have a man to man.”

“Man – to – Man.” Nicky giggles, trying out the new phrase.

“That’s right, now come on.” Sonny waves him down. When Nicky gets to the bottom of the stairs, Sonny takes his hand and leads him past Jesse in the family room. She’s playing a game and barely looks up. They go into the living room, “the serious room,” and he picks Nicky up and puts him on the sofa.

Sonny takes a seat himself and says, “Now your teacher tells me that you and your friend got in a fight again today.”

“He’s not my friend!” Nicky practically screams and tears swim in his eyes.

“There. You see, that’s the problem. You’re too sensitive, little buddy. You can’t let them see you sweat.”

Nicky squints his eyes in confusion.

“Tell me what happened . . .  Did he pick on you again? Make you cry in front of the others?”

Nicky looks down, ashamed. Very quietly he says, “Yes.”

“Come here,” Sonny says and puts his arm around his son who is now cuddled into his side. “Now, you need to understand me here. That other boy was wrong. Definitely wrong being mean and picking on you like that.”

“Uh huh,” Nicky nods into his chest.

“But you gotta learn to hold it back. No tears, okay?”

“Why? Jesse cries sometimes too.”

Sonny laughs. Jesse was too much like her mother, very tough. Only he and Nicky ever saw her cry. “And how often have you seen her cry?”

“Uh . . .”

“Does she cry more or less than you?”

“Um . . . less!?” he says excitedly, looking up at Sonny, hoping to have the right answer. Daddy was always so proud of with him when he did.

“That’s right. And she’s a girl - they’re allowed to cry more than us.”

“Why is that?” Nicky asks, perplexed.

“Because girls don’t get called sissies and get beaten up when they cry. They’re allowed to show weakness. Boys aren’t.”

“Oh,” Nicky says, thinking. “That’s not fair.”

“I know buddy, but the other boys are going to take any sign of weakness you show as an invitation to attack you. You gotta toughen up son. Like your cousins on Staten Island, you hear me?” 

He peels his son away from his embrace and looks him sternly in the eyes, “I don’t want to hear anymore that you’ve been crying in front of others, okay? Even if they are being mean. No more tears.”

“But Daddy . . . “ 

“Hmm?”

Nicky hesitates for a second and gulps. “I’ve seen you cry. In Georgia. Is it still okay to cry in Georgia?”

Sonny feels a tightening around his heart for a moment and tears prick at his eyes. When he finally lets out the sigh he had been holding, he pulls Nicky back into his chest to comfort himself this time. With his head on top of his son’s he whispers, “Yes, it’s still okay to cry in Georgia.”


	2. Part Two

She had passed on Mother's Day. Shortly after their son had been born. She had never even gotten to see him or touch him. She had been whisked away to surgery immediately following the birth because of severe complications. She had been asking for her son, fading in and out of consciousness all the way to the operating room.

Sonny had been by her side, holding her hand as the gurney moved fast, so fast. "You'll make it Amanda - I know you will. I'll be praying for you - everyone will. You're strong. Fight."

"Fight. . ." he said one more time as he released her hand and she disappeared behind gray doors. He didn't even get a chance to tell her that he loved her. And as it turned out, that was last time he ever saw her.

Despite his desperate prayers his wife didn't make it.


	3. Part Three

The funeral had been terrible. And Amanda's mother had shown up drunk as a skunk.

Sonny sat in the church, trying to sort out his emotions hidden behind the sequestered area for next of kin – a place meant for private grieving. But it honestly wasn't very private with his entire family there, trying to offer him solace.

He found that he still couldn't cry. His eyes had dried up the moment the doctor came out into that waiting room to let him know that Amanda had left them - that their future was gone. The shock hit him hard and he knew he was supposed to be sad . . . he knew that he missed her, that he would forever.

But yet, only his brain seemed to know this. What he should be doing – crying, getting angry, breaking down - wasn't' happening. The tears just weren't there. He only had his thoughts to comfort him. And thoughts by their very nature are cold when they are not tempered by feelings.

Amanda's mother, by rights, belonged there with them in the family sequestered area and had been invited to join them. But soon before the service was about to begin she blew in like the disaster she was. And she was hell bent on tearing down everyone else around her. Especially him.

He had expected that she would be distraught after losing two daughters so close together, that she would likely show up drunk even, but that still didn't excuse her poor behavior. Amanda's sister Kim had been shot to death in a flop house by a jealous boyfriend. _It figured._ Carisi had thought wryly when he first heard the news – you die like you live. His Amanda had died fighting.

But whatever pity he had for Amanda's mother dried up once she tried to interact with her granddaughter. She had revealed to Jesse that she was her grandmother and loomed over her, started lecturing her on what it meant to be a part of the Rollins family, and then suddenly, unexpectedly with a loud burp vomited all over herself, getting some on Jesse who pealed out a squeal of terror, running back to Aunt Theresa for shelter, crying while desperately trying to wipe off the vomit. His family had been trying to protect him from all of this drama by dealing with Mrs. Rollins themselves, handling his children, etc. in an attempt to let him grieve without this kind of distraction. But scaring Jesse like that crossed the line. Carisi decided to step in and do something about his nasty mother-in-law.

He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her just outside the sanctuary. "Look, you're in a church here, lady. We're having a ceremony for YOUR daughter to celebrate HER life. We're all asking God to help us get through during this hard time. And you show up so drunk out of your mind that you scare your only granddaughter? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"God, huh?" she sniffs and then turns hard eyes on him, the devout Catholic. "Let me guess, you think this is all God's will, God's plan, don't you? That you had NOTHING to do with it."

"I didn't. God chose this time to take Amanda away from us."

"God had nothing to do with it, you moron. YOU killed my daughter!" she screeched. And then getting up in his face she snarled, "With your dick."

He was so shocked he didn't know how to react. He just stared at her in disbelief.

She nodded, like what she had just said was the God's honest truth.

"What did you just say to me?" Carisi said in a low voice laced with danger.

"You and your fucking hell spawn over there," she points at Dominick in his baby seat at the foot of his sister Gina's chair, who was making funny fingers at him, getting him to smile, "You and that demon murdered my daughter. He wouldn't even exist if you hadn't been fucking her and she wouldn't have had any reason to die."

"She was my wife. She wanted to have a family with me and I wanted a child of my own," he said slowly and deliberately to the drunken mess standing before him. But he shouldn't have to justify his and Amanda's choices. To anyone.

"Family, fuck," Mrs. Rollins said dismissively, then wiped at her eyes as tears started escaping them. Carisi couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her ability to cry. "I lost my little Kimmy, you know. And when she was gone I wished it had been Amanda – she was always the bad seed. But I never thought I'd lose them both."

"And you expect me to feel sorry for you after saying those nasty things? About my wife?" Carisi said loudly, towering over her. He was definitely starting to feel some emotion now – it had been building. Anger.

She turned around and started back towards the door they had come out of, talking over her shoulder at him. "You'll understand now that you have two of them. One will always disappoint you."

She stopped in front of his sister Gina, looking down at innocent little Dominick resting in his baby seat. He hadn't even been baptized yet. Her face twisted into a mask of malice.

"Like this one!" she screamed and kicked his baby seat. Hard. It crashed into the nearby wall, Dominick still locked inside it's protective shell.

That was when Carisi lost it.

It was mostly a blur. He remembered tackling his mother in law to the ground. And the next thing he knew his relatives were prying him off the passed out woman beneath him. He struggled against them still trying to beat at her with his fists. It took all of his sisters and his brother-in-law to subdue him.

He was gasping for air as they restrained him. And then he passed out.

He vaguely heard his name spoken a few times followed by the words assault and jail time as he came out of his haze.

"Hey, here," said his sister Bella, swimming into his vision. She was holding Dominick, and turning his son toward him she said, "He's okay. She didn't do him any harm."

He sat up from the floor and reached up to take his baby boy into his arms. Jesse came over to him, and knelt down to pet the almost non-existent tuffs of hair on Dominick's head to make sure he was okay too.

"Daddy?"

"Hmmm?

"That woman?" she hesitated for a second, hoping that what she wanted to say next wouldn't get her in trouble. She had been taught that it wasn't nice to say bad things about others.

"She is mean."

Sonny nodded at his daughter, who looked quite like Amanda in that moment. She had that same resigned look on her face that his wife would get when her family had really gotten to her.

"Yes, she is," he said echoing that same resignation in the tone of his voice.


	4. Part Four

Amanda Carisi had been interred in a small town almost an hour outside of Atlanta even though services had been held in New York where she had lived with Sonny. She had insisted on being buried with her family. He almost felt like she was choosing them over him when they had last discussed it. The fact that she wanted to be buried with them without a thought about what he might want had gnawed at him. And it was something he had been planning to bring up with her again. He thought they had time. Plenty of it. Turned out they didn't.

They had a quick graveside service with only himself, Jesse, and his son in attendance. He thanked the Lord that Amanda's mother never showed. He and what was left of his little family could finally grieve in peace.

Once the brief service had ended Sonny was left staring at his wife's fresh grave holding the little girl's hand in one of his own and his baby boy safe within his baby seat in the other. The cemetery workers were scheduled to come back and fill it in later that day. Amanda's coffin was lying deep in the ground sparsely covered with the dirt they had thrown into her grave during the ceremony. It was still mostly exposed.

Time. Time. They'd had plenty of it. And then suddenly they didn't. It ran out. And she was gone.

He dropped to his knees and Dominick's baby seat landed safely but roughly on the ground beside him. He let go of the grasp he had on Jesse's hand and the baby seat. He crawled forward and clawed deeply into dirt beneath him until he found his way to the edge of the grave and peered down into the gaping hole that held her coffin. His palms grasped the edge and held it tight as if he could somehow pull Amanda back up to him if only he didn't let go. He stared down into his wife's grave for what seemed like eternity. Then the tears finally came and dropped onto his dirty hands, steady and fast. Some of them fell all of the way down and splattered onto her coffin. He did not cry quietly.

He didn't even hear Jesse's worried, "Daddy?"

Nor did he hear when Dominick began to cry.

Instead when Sonny finally let go of his grasp on the edge, he sat back on his heels, lifted his head up, and screamed at the sky, to God. His fists curled at his sides, every muscle in his arms flexed. "WHYYYYYYYYYY!?"

He shook with the rage of his outburst.

In the background Jesse tried to soothe little Dominick - to get him to stop crying. But she had no idea how to calm him.

Why was her daddy crying like this? She'd never seen him this way before. She was very alarmed and felt unsafe, unprotected. Something was very very wrong. A knot formed in her stomach – in the gnawing pit of her stomach. She didn't know what to do and was ready to panic.

When the scream finally ended, her father was still on knees his crying hard. The he tipped forward and grasped the edge again like he never wanted to let go. Peering down into her mother's grave he whispered, "Please don't leave me 'Manda. You can't leave me like this. I won't be able to make it. I don't have what it takes to be strong for our kids. For our family. I don't think I'll be able to do it without you. I'm not as strong as you."

"Daddy?" Jesse asked her father again and he stopped crying, sitting back on his heels.

But to her horror he brought his filthy hands up to his face and covered it in dirt. The dirt from her mother's grave. He rubbed at his face and pulled at the sides of his cheeks in what appeared to be an effort to wipe away the tears that had soaked them. But by then Dominick had started screaming. Jesse was torn about which one she needed to help. After careful consideration she made her choice.

"Daddy?" she said again and knelt in front of him. Gently she reached up for his arms and he easily let her remove his hands from his face – his mud-stained face. He stared at her for a while before he hung his head and resumed crying. Jesse was scared again at having seen his face. His bright blue eyes had been surrounded by red veins, red lids, and had stood out vividly from the darkness of the mud that covered his face.

But she tried to stay strong for him and she remembered all of the times when she was sad that he would just hug her and tell her that he loved her. It would make everything right. It always did. He hadn't done that since her mama died – not even when she had really needed it. Nana Carisi had taken over that job for a while so she wouldn't feel so abandoned. But now it was just her and her daddy, together but standing alone in their sadness. And he was so very sad.

Despite the mud all over him, she crawled onto his lap and encircled her arms about his torso. She let the tears and the mud drip all over her because he needed her. Needed her to make everything alright. "I love you daddy, I really do. As much as mama did."

He hugged her tight and cried into her hair until his tears ran out. By that point Dominick had stopped screaming and crying on his own and was sleeping fitfully.

Sonny pulled Jesse back from their hug, but she remained seated on his lap. She looked up into his red-rimmed eyes and she noticed that the brightness of his red face had started to become visible through the mud that had remained - he had cried much of it off. He still looked so fiercely sad when he said to her, "Thank you, baby girl."

"Hey! That's what mama called me." Jesse brightened up a little bit. "Maybe she's still here."

He slowly shook his head and said to her, "No she's not. She's gone."

"No she's not," Jesse said adamantly and pressed her palm to his chest, over his heart. "She's still in here."

Her daddy looked like he was going to cry again.

"That's why you used her words."

He nodded and a small smile formed on his lips, despite the tears that had threatened to spill over again. "She'll always be there, Jesse. Always."


	5. Part Five

Sonny gets another call from Nicky's preschool teacher. This time even though Nicky got in a fight again it turns out that he appears to have started it. Sonny sighs and agrees to yet another parent-teacher conference with the family of the boy that had been pushing Nicky around all year.

"Nicky!" he yells up the stairs.

"Was that my teacher?" Nicky says as he comes to the landing, beaming. He thinks his father will be proud of him for what he did today. He just knew his teacher was going to tell him so he had waited, kept the secret to himself even though it was bursting to get out.

"Get down here," Sonny says firmly.

"Oooh, someone's going to get in trouble," Jesse teases from the kitchen table. She is working on her homework.

Sonny turns towards his daughter, points a finger at her and says, "Can it."

She just shrugs and goes back to doing her math problems.

"Man-to-man?" Nicky stutters.

"Yes, man to man. Get down here."

They end up on the sofa in the 'serious room' again.

"Tell me what happened." Sonny says.

Nicky tells him – stuttering along the best way he knows how. Since four year olds don't have the easiest time with talking, whole sentences take him a while to form and he needs to think hard before saying them.

"Do I get to be called Dominick now?" he asks hopefully after he tells his daddy everything.

"No. What you've done is nothing to be proud of son. If you go around picking fights you're being as bad as he is. Do you understand?"

"But daddy, I didn't cry," he says, his chin trembling, working hard to hold back ears. He thought he'd made his daddy proud, but instead he's mad.

"I am proud of you for not crying. Very proud," Sonny reassures him. Nicky sniffs and the tears do not fall. "You're toughening up and if you keep it up by the time to get to 'real school' with a bunch of new kids that haven't seen you cry less of them will pick on you. You got it?"

"Yes, I got it." Nicky says.

He wants to make sure Nicky is a tough kid by the time kindergarten rolls around. He has a feeling his son will be short and scrawny like he was until he shot up in high school. A natural target. He's glad Nicky seems to have gotten control of his crying at least – having a reputation as a crybaby would only make things worse. But he certainly doesn't want him to lash out and become a bully either.

"Now listen to me. You cannot go around picking fights. And since you did that today you're in big trouble, Mister. Daddy has to go clean up your mess down at the school now. And I don't like that."

"I'm sorry," Nicky says, contrite.

"Glad to hear it little buddy," Sonny says and gives his son a little pat on the shoulder. "Now you go up to your room and think about how what you did was wrong while I think of a good punishment for you."

"No daddy! Make up your mind now. Please." He whines.

Sonny smiles to himself. He knows that the agony of waiting and wondering is often worse than what any punishment may be. It was punishment in itself. His mother had been the master of this type of discipline.

"No can do, little buddy. Now head upstairs."

"I don't wanna," Nicky declares, but still he obeys his father, stomping his feet all the way up to his room.


	6. Part Six

A bit later in May, Sonny Carisi is on a plane to Atlanta, his children in tow. At first he is quiet and solemn, spending much of his time in deep thought. This has always been the hardest time of the year for him. Jesse has learned to respect this but unfortunately, Nicky has not. He eventually becomes restless and hyper and Jesse is trying out the role of "mother" in an attempt to get him to calm down. Eventually they break out into a screaming match.

Sonny's not embarrassed at all by the few people who dare to turn around and glare at him. Kids just do this. He calls out to each individual separately:

"What's your problem, huh?"

"And yours, eh?"

"What are you looking at? Never seen two kids fight before?"

"Hey, turn around and mind your own business."

He challenges them all and gives them dirty looks until they turn their heads back to the front of the plane. Then he pulls Nicky out of his seat and puts him in the aisle.

"I want you to do ten laps for me, okay buddy."

"Ten? How many is that?"

"Come on Nicky, you know your numbers. Count them out on your hand. One, two, three, four . . ."

Nicky stares down at his hand and picks up where his dad left off, pointing at each finger. "Five, six, seven . . . "

"You got it," Sonny says as he finishes. "Do a lap for each finger, you got me? Down to the bathroom at the back of the plane and back here. Yes?"

"Yes!" he exclaims excitedly, ready to take off. Sonny grabs his shoulder and restrains him before he can.

"Now be polite. If someone is in your way you say excuse me nicely and wait for them to move, okay? No shoving."

"Got it!" and with that Nicky takes off down the aisle.

"Well, you sure told him," Jesse says sarcastically. She's in a really bad mood because she knows where they are going. She remembers her mother.

"What's my punishment going to be?" She turns her face towards the window and in her reflection Sonny sees the sorrow in her frown.

"Jess," Sonny says softly, rubbing her back. "You aren't going to get any. You were just trying to be the mother he never had."

She tears up a little over this, but stays facing away, hoping her father doesn't see.

"It's okay," he says, "We all wish we still had her. Come here."

He puts his arm around her shoulder as she turns back to him, away from the window, and pulls her into his chest. It had seemed like she had been starting to cry before, but now there's nothing. She is still. He remembers that state of mind well - too well. Grief buried so deep that there is no feeling left. None at all.


	7. Part Seven

For the duration of the drive out to Loganville Nicky has been passed out asleep in the backseat. Despite his earlier restlessness, the whole travel ordeal has worn him out.

Jesse hasn't said a word since she clammed up on the plane. Sonny is starting to get worried about her.

They pull up onto the road of a small, private cemetery. The crunching of the gravel beneath the wheels is somehow comforting, soothing, familiar. They've come every year since she died. This year Mother's Day is on May 12th again, the exact same date that God took her away.

"Hey little buddy," Sonny calls out to his son in the backseat.

Nicky wakes up slowly, wipes his eyes, and yawns. "Where are we Daddy?"

"We're here to visit your mama."

Nicky looks perplexed. Sonny surmises that he was probably too young the last time they had been out here and has no memory of it. But then he remembers what his son had said. I've seen you cry. In Georgia. Is it still okay to cry in Georgia? So Nicky does remember something of their last visit here.

"There's no one to visit. Mama's not here," Jesse says vacantly and shoving open the car door she gets out, stepping into the balmy heat. She slowly walks the path to her mother's headstone. It's part of the ritual they go through every year.

"Jesse, wait up," Sonny calls. "Come on, Nicky. Time to get out of the car."

He does and follows his father down the path. Except unlike his father and sister he is humming happily and running in circles as he makes his way along it. They catch up with Jesse and then walk down together. They are silent except for Nicky's humming.

When they reach the grave Sonny's breath catches in his throat. This is the only time of the year he lets himself think of her – really think of her. The rest of the year he has to stay strong for the kids. He crosses himself and then settles on the grass in front of her headstone while Jesse silently sits down beside him. Nicky runs up to the headstone, putting his hands all over it, tracing the letters.

"Oooh, what's this daddy?"

"Nicky, don't touch that." Sonny snaps. He follows with a stern, "Come over here".

Nicky's forehead creases as he looks back at his daddy. He doesn't understand why he's in trouble now. He only knows that he is. He waddles with his head down towards his father and sits next to him, on the opposite side of Jesse.

Once his children are on either side of him, his wife is resting in the ground beneath him, Sonny can finally let go. He cries quietly as he lets himself remember her, lets himself miss her. Remembering the joy he felt as they were falling in love, caring for Jesse together. How beautiful she was, how sparkling her blue eyes were when she would tell him that she loved him. Stroking her soft golden hair as she lay on his chest and they watched TV after long days at work. How their toes would find their way to each other in the middle of the night and they'd wake up with their feet tangled together.

She had been comfortable enough to talk to him about her fears. He had been the only one she trusted to get that close to her heart. He was careful with it. No one else had been. She had been damaged when they met but determined to live life on her own terms. Not as a woman needing to be rescued, not as a victim, not as someone needing guidance, but as a tough, strong woman who could whether almost anything and survive.

But she didn't survive giving birth to their son. He sighed deeply as the tears stopped. It was not the first time he felt it. The resentment towards his own son. He crossed himself. The guilt he felt over this was overwhelming. After returning from Georgia he would always go to mass and the confessional more often, praying until he could put these feelings behind him - at least for a while.

He looks down at his son who is actually sitting quietly for once, picking at some blades of grass, looking content. Sonny becomes angry just watching him. Why did he have to lose his wife to bring this child into the world? What was the point? Supplanting one for the other. In Georgia he felt it – the hatred for his own son, sitting innocently by his side. And he hated himself for feeling that way.

Unable to look at his son a second longer, he turns to Jesse. She sits beside him, not a single tear shed.

They had always given such comfort to each other over the years, here in Georgia. Both grieving for Amanda together, coming out on the other side of it, ready to go home and put it behind them. At least for another year.

Something is different this time.

"Hey, Jess . . . "

She doesn't look at him, but instead looks down at her hands. "He needs a mama, you know."

"I can't . . . " Sonny starts but can't finish.

"I was his age when Mama went to heaven. Do you remember?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"He needs a mama. One he can remember." Jesse looks over at her brother and Sonny can now see the anger rise in the flush of her face. "I bet he doesn't even know what he's done. And he doesn't care."

He is glad she'sno longer numb, but this . . .

"He took her away from us, daddy!" Jesse practically screams. "He killed her."

No . . . Sonny started to say but couldn't. He felt the same way. Deep down he knew he did. He hung his head. And truth be told, he also blamed himself. As Amanda's mother had said he was responsible for her death. As much as Nicky was. He knew giving birth to Jesse had been difficult for her. If he hadn't pushed to have his own kid . . .

He starts to cry again. Deep soul wrenching tears. Jesse just looks away, her anger returning to coldness. She has no sympathy to spare for her father.

Nicky crawls onto his lap and hugs his father as he cries. "It's okay, daddy. Everything's going to be alright."

His innocent son.

His little boy has no idea how much sorrow his very existence had caused. No matter how much anger they had towards him for living or how much blame he and Jesse wanted to place on him, he was innocent. In his mind he had always known this but his heart had never accepted it. Until now – until his son had reached out to comfort him. Carisi hugs Nicky tightly and for the first time finally allows himself to fully love his son. As he holds his little boy remembers Amanda . . .

She had been calling out for him, their little Dominick, as she was being wheeled into the operating room to die. She had loved her son even though she never even had the chance to hold him. But Sonny had been lucky enough to – all these years. Reminding himself of what his wife had missed out on, he held his son close to his chest, for her, for himself. "Thanks little buddy."

Disgusted, Jesse stands up and walks away.

"Jess!" he calls after her. "Jess!"

She only turns around to give him a brief withering look and keeps walking.

Sonny disentangles himself from his son and tells him to stay put while he stands up and goes after her. She has stopped along the fence at the edge of the cemetery, looking out onto the road where nary a car even passed by. He comes up beside her and just stands there. Even though his every inclination is to try to force her to talk – it had always worked on her mother eventually – he knows that is not what she needs right now. He had needed silence from time to time, especially while travelling here, and she had always respected his need for it - she had always given him space to grieve. It is what he needs to do for her now. Except he wants to stand by her side along this fence as a physical reminder that she is not alone in this process. And that she is loved.

They stand there in silence so long looking out at the barren road that Nicky has grown restless again. Sonny looks back at him. He is making airplane noises with his arms outstretched, diving in between the headstones, barely missing them. He smiles a bit. His son is amusing himself for the time being, not needing any kind of intervention. He can stay with Jesse.

"I hate him, you know," Jesse says when she finally speaks.

"For a while, I did too."

Jesse turns to him, her face in total shock.

"What?"

"Yes," Sonny says quietly, "He took your mother from us. With his very life."

There is silence between them, Jesse still facing her father, him looking away now.

He says quietly, "You are not alone in feeling that way."

She starts crying finally. "I . . . I . . . Oh, daddy, I've been feeling so bad for feeling this way. So evil - rotten. Like God needs to punish me."

"Have you ever talked to the priest about this? In confession or anything?"

"No." She hangs her head and sobs.

"Jesse, baby," he crouches down in front of her and tips her head up. "You might want to try that when we get back. It might make you feel better, okay?"

Nicky has crept up on them silently. They don't even notice his presence until he wraps his arms around Jesse's legs. "Poor sissy. I'm sorry you're crying. I'm sorry."

She looks down at him, stricken, but his adoring gaze never falters. "I love you sissy. I'm sorry you feel bad. "

"He's sorry," Sonny says softly, touching his daughter's shoulder. She cries even harder as she picks up her little brother and holds him to her.

"I know you are little Dominick, I know you are." She holds him fiercely.

And then Sonny envelops both of his children in his embrace so that they can all heal together. As a family.

It is the last day anyone ever calls his son Nicky.

FIN


End file.
